


My Shadow Weighs Me Down

by supershinywords



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:52:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supershinywords/pseuds/supershinywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England observes America during a meeting and old instincts lead him to help. America is exhausted enough to let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Shadow Weighs Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted for 365daysofusuk on tumblr. I had fic and art today, and somehow didn't attach the updated art when I attempted to send it.

[](https://imageshack.com/i/fkhb7rp)

England’s eyes drifted to the side. America had been odd all day, subdued when he entered the meeting hall, and now he was reading through his files, looking wan under the fluorescent lights. 

England glanced down to see if he could observe anything from the documents, and could only piece together that they were summaries of movements in Afghanistan.

“I just…don’t get it,” America murmured, so quietly England wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t seen his lips move and known to listen.

England glanced around the room and checked the time, then stood. Italy was finished speaking, conveniently. “Time for a break, I think. Go get something to eat, we’ll pick this back up at half two.”

Most of the other nations stood, some of them moving slowly until the blood flowed back into their limbs properly and England looked back to America, still seated as he closed his folders and then leaned back in his seat. He slid two fingers under his glasses to rub gently at the dark skin beneath his eye.

He looked…tired. England observed him for a moment and then slipped from the room. There was a break room for the interns down the hall a few turns with an electric kettle. He doubted the other nations knew of it, so it was likely free.

America had barely touched his burger while England had watched and after their lunch break, England had found half of a hamburger in the trash. He’d assumed it had been Canada’s leftovers from a lunch he’d been coerced into attending with his brother, but now considered that America might have lost his appetite from stress, as unthinkable as such a thing seemed. Perhaps getting some food into him would help.

He made quick work of a cup of tea and grabbed a sweet roll and some of that abominable jerky one of the interns had taken to and quickly returned to the meeting room. America had folded his arms under his head on the table, though England didn’t think he was sleeping. He let his feet drag along the carpet as he approached and was rewarded when America slowly lifted his head.

His glasses were still on – barely – though skewed from his exhausted slump: the blue eyes behind the wire frames were pinched and bleary in the moment they opened before America seemed to draw energy from some reserve. “Break over?”

“Ah…no,” England murmured, setting down the packet of jerky and the roll first, then used both hands to steady the tea onto the table.

America stared down at it blankly for a moment before he looked back to England. “What…?

England straightened up and looked past America to the wall just behind his head. He could never be certain how America would respond to his overtures: he’d grown into such a confusing nation for having been such a simple child. “You didn’t finish your lunch. I know you don’t like tea anymore, but you seemed tired. I thought…”

Despite his efforts not to look America in the eyes in case he threw this effort in his face, he could still see the moment comprehension crossed his face.

“You…” America sighed, voice trailing off as he plucked his glasses off and rubbed his other hand over his face. When it fell, he was smiling faintly. “Still taking care of me, huh?”

England’s eyes dipped briefly as he found his own faint smile. “Well.”

America laughed softly and looked down at the pitiful offering England had collected with gratitude. England was surprised to realize his eyes, heavy-lidded as they were, were damp with tears and found his throat tight with questions he couldn’t ask. _How long have you been so tired? Why are you letting it come to this? Have you been sleeping at all? Do you eat properly?_

All of those would close America’s face down without question, and possibly drive him from eating, so England bit his tongue. “Go ahead, then. We don’t have much time and I’d rather not have to listen to you speak around your food…again. It’s bad enough to hear you butchering English without adding insult to injury.”

America turned that small, fond smile on England briefly before he nodded and, leaving his glasses on the table, began splitting into the packaging for the jerky. England glanced down at the spectacles and realized they’d picked up even more smudges. He sighed and picked them up, one hand reaching into his pocket for his square and pinching a corner to shake it out.

The crinkle of plastic faltered and England glanced up to find America hesitating, one hand holding the mug England had unearthed, the other with a ragged chip of beef jerky, both hanging roughly halfway to his mouth. England rolled his eyes as his hands automatically tilted the glasses and began buffing them clean gently to avoid scratching the glass. “Yes?”

Cheeks heating faintly, America dropped his eyes and brought the mug to his mouth quickly. He took a quick gulp and then, eyes wide, pulled the cup away and opened his mouth wide. “Hot! Hot!”

England’s mouth twitched.

~

Twenty minutes later, most of their allies had returned and they were waiting only for the Italy brothers, Austria, and Spain. France had just wandered back in with Estonia, voice rising and falling in cadence that appeared to have hypnotized the other country and his eyes swept the room in a headcount that faltered and ceased when he landed on America.

He excused himself from Estonia, from what England could hear, and crossed the room to where America had demolished the food and reopened his reports. The only proof of his break as far as any of the other nations would be able to see, would be the empty mug. But he did look better, England was pleased to see.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to notice.

“America! Big brother is pleased to see you with some color again!”

“Hm?” America blinked, looking up and realizing the meeting was about to resume. “Oh, France. Uh, thanks. I was dragging a bit earlier, I guess.”

France tilted his head and waved. “I could tell…hm, you aren’t fully restored yet, though, are you my dear?” He reached out even as he spoke and America blinked, confused, as one of France’s hands approached his face.

England’s spine stiffened in outrage at the cheek and he was about to call out to the bastard to mind his hands when America pressed his hand away before it could reach his face – or his spectacles. “I’m fine, France. Don’t worry about me, OK?”

England’s ire eased and he found himself smirking at the table as France pouted at America. His good mood wasn’t even dented when America began laughing with him shortly after as he remembered America’s silent permission to handle something precious to him.


End file.
